


Reclamation

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [53]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: #MeToo, Gen, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 22:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16292696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: Taking a breath, Murphy turned off the car and on shaking legs, made her way to the front door.





	Reclamation

**Title** : Reclamation  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Series:** Come Rain, Come Shine  
**Rating:** M (for references to sexual assault)  
**Timeframe:** [#murphytoo](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%23murphytoo) (season 11)  
**A/N:** The flashback is based on what Murphy describes happening to her. I’m glad after 30 years, the show addressed even a little bit of what Murphy had to have gone through in her life. She came of age in a time when women had almost no recourse. When you could be fired for not sleeping with your boss. She was a baby journalist out on the road when women in the field were almost non-existent. You know things happened, and you know that was how she learned to keep people at arm’s length, to talk so tough, to dish it out before others could come for her. [#murphytoo](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%23murphytoo) matters. And I wish they’d been able to give more time to it.  
**Disclaimer:** This beautiful show is controlled by Diane English and Candice Bergen. I’m just over here, writing out my therapy in response to the trauma they give me and I don’t make a penny doing it. Made a great friend tho.

 **Summary:** _Taking a breath, Murphy turned off the car and on shaking legs, made her way to the front door._

**Pennsylvania, 2018**

It was dark by the time she arrived at the familiar drive. Nothing had changed. Well, the car was different. The ivy a little thicker. The last time she’d been here, she’d been accepting that damn honorary doctorate, lording it over everyone like it was the last award left on earth all because Peter had been in Mogadishu and she was worried about him so she puffed her ego up instead.

No.

Well yes, she had been worried about Peter. But she’d mostly been terrified of seeing Professor Talbot again. So she’d taken Carl with her everywhere, documenting her life on the campus, refusing even a moment despite the endless messages Talbot had left requesting her attention.

She’d ignored every one of them and at the ceremony forced a smile to her lips and hadn’t even flinched when he’d kissed her cheek. She’d made too much of it, she told herself. Really, nothing had happened.

No. She stared up at the door. Something had happened. Something that defined her entire worldview for decades even without realizing it.

Suddenly, she wished she’d waited. She wished she’d brought Avery. He’d have sat out here in the car and listened to whatever he was listening to now or played that Pokemon game he’d shown her the other day.

But no. She did what she always did. She acted on impulse and ended up here and now she’d need to find a hotel and stay the night because she couldn’t drive home like this.

No. She needed to do this herself. She needed to be here by herself. For herself. For herself and the scared nineteen year old who still didn’t believe that what happened that night wasn’t her fault.

Taking a breath, Murphy turned off the car and on shaking legs, made her way to the front door.

**1967**

At the end of the driveway, she realized she’d left the award inside on the table but she couldn’t go back and get it. Momentum kept her going, her heels rough on the sidewalk, as she hurried down the street, not quite sure where she was going but absolutely unable to contemplate returning.

What had just happened? What?

She was drunk. That was all. That was what made everything feel so strange. She was drunk.

Her feet slowed and she came to a stop, one hand resting against a tree, the other brushing her hair out of her face. She was drunk. She just needed to get home and take a shower. She had the internship in New York to pack for. Professor Talbot could keep the hunk of glass. She didn’t need it. She didn’t …

No. She wanted it.

But she wasn’t going back there.

She could still feel how his knee pressed between her thighs, smell the liquor on his breath. His kiss had been so sloppy but so forceful. So …

One breath. And then another. She was drunk. She wasn’t blameless here. She was drunk. She’d taken the glasses of champagne. She hadn’t eaten enough. This was just as much on her as it was on him and she needed to just suck it up and get home and pack. She had to be on the train first thing Monday morning and there was still so much to do. A whole summer in New York.

A whole summer with men like Talbot.

Sucking in a breath, Murphy straightened her necklace, smoothed down the front of her blouse, adjusted her purse, and made her way back to the dormitory.

She dropped her keys three times before her hands calmed enough that she could slide the key into the lock. Never before had she been so glad for private rooms.

She kicked off her heels, dropped her purse to the chair, pulled her hair free of its clip, and ripped the blouse from her shoulders. It smelled like him and his breath and the leather of the couch. Into the garbage it went along with the skirt her mother had bought for her. Sorry, Mother. Fingers clawed at her stockings and she ripped them as she pulled them off, wrapping the nylon around her hands and pulling, hard, a low wail escaping her as she did so.

**2018**

Murphy stared at the girl, Talbot’s assistant, Jessica. She was the same age Murphy had been when Talbot had singled her out. Fresh faced. Excited. Yes, she was Murphy Brown, she told her, trying to be polite in the face of this moment she suddenly wasn’t ready for.

The heroine of journalism. Back from the depths to fight one last battle … against, what, exactly?

She couldn’t take down the serial rapist in the Oval Office so she’d confront an old man here in his home?

Did he hurt the other girls? How many had fallen for it? How many went along with it? Up until this baby opened the door, a part of her still believed she’d made the whole thing up. Now, the scared child in the back of her mind had some kind of vindication.

She’d been nineteen.

There in the foyer sat the award. Encased in glass like … the trophy he’d considered her. He’d never scored with her so he kept the part of her he felt belonged to him. The recognition of the work she’d done. Hard work. Every Emmy, every Humboldt, every Peabody, even her damn Pulitzer had always been missing something along the way. Looking at the glass case, she knew it was this. Right here.

And he told everyone she’d given it to him?

She hadn’t slept with him, but she’d given him the trophy?

Fucking asshole. That had been hers. And she’d left it for him to show off like he had the right to have any part of her at all.

Stepping into the study was worse. There was a shrine that made the wall in her home office look humble in comparison. Photos of her and Talbot together the year she’d worked for him, shots of her on FYI, even the one she’d relented and done after the Dan Quayle disaster. How dare he have anything of Avery! That was one part of her he didn’t get to have. She wanted it gone. He could remember her all he wanted, but her son was sacred.

Turning back, she handed over her card. “We’re always looking for smart, young people,” she said. And there was something in the young woman’s eyes that told her she knew exactly why this moment was happening. Murphy’s heart broke all over again.

 **1967**  
  
Had it all been a lie?

Who had really won the award tonight? Was it her? Was it that report she’d done on women faculty members who made so much less than the men? Was it the report on contraception? Or her editorials about the need to legalize abortion?

Or was it Talbot? His voice, his words and she was just the puppet and in the end, his hand was as much up her backside as if she was a doll dancing on his lap.

What if by running out, she’d ruined everything? What if he called New York and told her she was backing out? What if he barred her from the classes she’d already registered for in the fall? What if he blacklisted her? What if he accused her of plagiarism? What if she had led him on?

Sitting in her underwear on her bed, Murphy pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to silence her scream. She needed a shower. She needed to rinse away the feel of his hands on her, how he’d grabbed her breast and pushed up inside her skirt.

She should have said yes.

He could ruin everything. Everything.

What if she was nothing without him? What if he really had been the voice behind her? Been the push? What if the stories were really his? What if she wasn’t good enough without him?

How was she going to get through interpersonal communications with him next semester? How was she supposed to sit in the room and listen to him talk about reading body language after how he’d grabbed her and pushed her into the couch? How was she supposed to take anything he said seriously ever again?

Ever again?

Shaking, she stood. She removed her bra and pulled on a pair of pj’s. She tucked herself into the window seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. She really should go shower. But it was so late.

She was so glad her parents hadn’t come up for the ceremony.

Mother would never have allowed him near her. Father would be so ashamed.

Take a breath.

It wasn’t that bad. She was fine. She wasn’t hurt. Last month, Jennie had gone out with Bill Kovok and he’d forced her into the back seat of his car and now she was pregnant and her family was forcing them to get married. Talbot hadn’t done anything but grope her after all. And she was drinking. She was drinking. She had some sense of responsibility here. She’d been drinking.

Murphy pressed her head to her knees, trying to calm herself. She had to pack and get on a train.

**2018**

The shattering of the glass was almost as satisfying as taking the award from the case and tucking it under her arm. She could imagine Jessica running to check on things, worried about her mentor and boss. Murphy wanted to run back in, to protect her, to offer her a job elsewhere. But she also had a feeling that like any good journalist, Jessica had been listening at the door. Murphy sat in her car an extra few minutes, and right as she started the ignition, she saw the door open, close quickly, and she watched the young woman walk away, a different set to her shoulders.

Good girl.

Hopped up on adrenaline, Murphy made the drive home in just over two hours, feeling almost young again. Almost. It was only ten o’clock when she pulled into the drive, but that was still later than her bedtime anymore. Morning TV was going to kill her.

Grabbing the gavel and award, Murphy stepped out of the car and made her way back inside, and was surprised to see Avery sitting on the couch, holding a familiar, tattered copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. When he looked up at her, it was clear he was only pretending to read.

“Where …?” He was on his feet, that worried tone he’d adopted since her fall down the stairs last year bleeding through his voice. But he trailed off when she handed him the award. “You want to tell me the rest of the story now?”

She turned back and shook her head. “No. Avery, some things I don’t want to tell you. But I want to thank you for something.”

“What?” He came back over to the couch, holding the award with a reverence that brought tears to her eyes.

“You taught me something about myself this week, honey. I mean, you’re always doing that. But … I never wanted to admit what happened to me - either that night in Talbot’s home or when I was out on the road … I never wanted to admit it was what it was. I’m from a different era and there were things I had to deal with in order to do my job and in my mind, reporting on Roe vs. Wade was more important than if my executive producer groped my breast in the editing bay or if some stranger grabbed my ass on the elevator.”

Avery swallowed. Murphy took a breath.

“Your generation is going to do better. I believe that. Because you ask before you touch anyone. You’re going to write new romance novels. You’re going to make the world safer. Maybe we take some things too seriously … but …” tears touched her eyes, and for once, she let them. “But I stood there tonight and until I took that award back, I felt as small as I did that night. Thank you for what you said to me. Thank you for taking me seriously. I ... never told anyone because I never thought they'd believe me. You did. And what you said ... I needed to hear it.”

Her son stared at her for a long time. Murphy met his gaze, trying to hold her ground, unsure what was in his mind. After a moment, he came over to her, put the award on the table, and wrapped her in a hug so tight she had to fight for breath. But, she didn’t pull away.

“I love you, Mom,” he whispered.

“I love you too, honey. So much.”

When he did pull back, there were tears on his cheeks and she reached up to wipe them away. “I’m not going to lie, Mom. There’s a part of me that wants to drive up there myself and kick the crap out of him.”

She chuckled and finally slipped her coat off and tossed it onto the chair. “Avery, he’s a sad, weak old man who needs a cane to get around. It’s been over 50 years since I was in his class and he hasn’t turned out another one of me? Come on. He’s a shell of a man and I took the last thing he had left.” She picked up the award and held it to the light. “But,” she looked over at him. “If Peter wants to do it, we let him. And no, he doesn't know. But, when he gets home from Puerto Rico in a couple of months, I'm going to tell him.”

Avery nodded. “It’s a deal.” He settled into the couch. “So what was the award for? Specifically?”

Murphy sat down. “A series of reports I did about contraception and access to abortion services for women. Remember, this was 1967. Five years before Roe.” A gentle smile crossed her face. “That reminds me … I have a story to tell you. Not tonight. But it’s about me and your father.”

“Wow. This must be big if you’re willing to open up about Jake.”

She chuckled. “Yes. It is. But first … so, I was obsessed with contraception for women. It was so freeing for us. And Talbot … oh he loved the idea. So, I ran with it.” With a sigh, she kicked off her shoes and settled the award on her lap. “You sure you want to hear this? It’s late.”

“Mom, for you, I’ve got all the time in the world. Anyway, gives me background for a show idea.”

"What?"

"Sexual assault on campus." He raised an eyebrow. "After all, we have to do better, right?"

Her first instinct was to argue. Instead, she reached over, patted his hand, and took a breath. "So, I'd done this series of stories on contraception for single women and it was starting to get national notice ..."

As she spoke, she watched him lean in, hands clasped, listening. She'd been so worried for so long that some stories would be left to the dust bin of history. But seeing Avery engage, she suddenly felt much better about the future.


End file.
